Talk Show
by Mr. Inkpot
Summary: Patsy's landed herself her own talk show, but things get a bit desperate when she can't find any A-listers to fill the guest sofas!
1. Talk Show, Eddie!

**Patsy is thrilled when she is given the chance to host her own talk show. However, when she fails to find any worthy A-listers to interview, she is forced to take drastic action…**

**_Please tell me what you think, I've never really tried comedy before; big fan of Abs Fabs, though! Further parts coming soon. :-)_**

Eddie was sitting alone in the kitchen. She was wearing pink, fluffy-looking earphones, and seemed to be mouthing in an eccentric way the lyrics of a song. She had a cigarette in her left hand, which she would drag from clumsily and quickly every time the words blaring into her ears stopped and the music prevailed. Unable to control herself, she soon began to bowl around the kitchen counter, her head banging to the beat of the song, her brown, frizzy hair flicking from side to side.

Patsy then appeared hurrying down the kitchen stairs. She had an unnerving gleam in her eyes, as if she were very excited about something, and didn't seem to care in the slightest that Eddie was now punching thin air in the living area.

"Eddie!" she cried in an emotional voice. Eddie didn't seem to hear her, and carried on with her musical workout. Patsy pulled the earphones from her friend's head and tossed them behind her.

"Tut, I was on a role there, darling," Eddie said, sounding irritated.

"Well what were you listening to?" Patsy asked.

"I think it was Mozart or something, I dunno," replied Eddie, gesturing with her hands flamboyantly before taking another drag from her cigarette.

"Well never mind that babe, I have big news!" Patsy said.

"Well what kind of big news, darling? You didn't get your stomach pumped again, did you?" Eddie asked, sounding intrigued yet unconcerned. She blew out a puff of smoke.

"I'm not sure we can really count that as big news anymore, sweetie," Patsy said, shaking her head. "I think the doctors are finding my arrival at 4am a little commonplace, you know?"

"Maybe if you died, then?" Eddie said, nodding. Patsy nodded in agreement, grinned, and took a cigarette from inside her handbag.

"This is news beyond that, Eddie. I, Patsy Stone, am getting my own talk show," Patsy said grandly, placing a bony hand against her chest. "It's going to be simply fabulous, darling; me, fashion guru and stylist, getting the dirt from some of the world's most elegant A-listers! I'll be on every billboard in London, Eddie, in every advertisement seen on the London Underground, on the front cover of every celebrity magazine!"

"That is_ fabulous_, darling," Eddie agreed. "How'd you manage that, then? You're not exactly sought after, are you darling? Not at your –" She broke off.

"At my _what_, Eddie?" Patsy demanded, her eyes sharp and wide. She lit her cigarette with concrete conviction.

"Doesn't matter Pats," Eddie said, smiling, after a short pause. She shuffled over to the kitchen. "Fancy a drink to celebrate, darling? Bottle of bubbly or somethin'?"

"That would be lovely, cheers Eds," Patsy said, forgetting what Eddie had almost let slip. She dumped her handbag onto the sofa and migrated into the kitchen, too. "This is going to be a big break for me, you know. I've always wanted to be able to insult people I dislike _intensely _and get away with it."

"You can just do that here with Saffy, darling, nobody would mind," Eddie said. She did not seem to care that she was talking about her own daughter, and busied herself pulling a bottle of champagne out of the fridge and finding two glasses.

"Yeah but I don't get paid for that," Patsy said wryly.

"I'd pay you if it made you happy, darling," Eddie said, jigging slightly as she laid the glasses on the table and poured the champagne.

"Yeah well, I've got the talk show now, I'll get my kicks that way," said Patsy. She took a long drag from her cigarette, then sipped the champagne. "My producer says we can start filming as soon as I've found some celebrities to interview."

"Surely that's not your job though, darling? You leave that to the little people who work behind the scenes, you know, the dwarves and the elves and Bubble, darling! You wanna have words with your producer, sweetheart, make him do the labourin'," Eddie said.

"It's a_ her_, actually," Patsy said, smoking again, "and she's a little bitch, let me tell you; maybe even worse than that _troll _daughter of yours."

"Well what's wrong with her?" Eddie asked.

"She doesn't respect me, Eddie," Patsy said in a dignified voice. "If I'm going to work in this field I need to find a producer who looks me up and down and sees a serious person, you know?" She flicked some ash from her cigarette into the champagne, then sipped it nonchalantly. "It's about mutual respect, Eds. I am a serious person, therefore I deserve one half of that respect."

"Totally serious, darling," Eddie said, half-smiling, half-wincing at what Patsy had just done. "Have you found any celebs yet? I could hook you up with Lulu if you wanted, Pats, she'd do it at the right price."

"I think I'm looking a bit further afield, Eddie," Patsy replied. "The Paul McCartneys, the Princess Dis, that sort of thing. I'll wring 'em all dry, babe, they won't be able to speak by the time I'm finished with them."

Eddie scowled before she spoke. "Well good luck with that, darling," she said shortly, nodding her head.

"Mum?" came a voice from the top of the stairs.

Patsy glared at the stairs, her smile twisting into a bitter frown. "Ugh, pretend you're not here, Eddie!" she hissed, her body bent low over the table.

"Tut, oh Pats it's only…it's only Saffy –" Eddie said. She flailed her arms around uncomfortably and squinted in a kind of 'we're stuck with her whatever happens' way. "Mumma's down here, Saff! Oh, don't pull that face Pats –"

"I'd wring her dry, then wring her _neck_," Patsy said, smoking harder.

"Yeah…yeah alright, darling…" Eddie said as Saffy came down the stairs, donned in a blue raincoat buttoned up to her neck.

"It's raining like mad out there," Saffy said, reaching the kitchen. "You're supposed to be at the _Stop Smoking _clinic this morning, Mum."

"Oh that thing…I've already been, darling, yeah…" Eddie replied casually. She tried to hide the cigarette in her hand.

"I can see the cigarette in your hand, Mum," Saffy said tiresomely. "What's _she _doing here? I bet she persuaded you not to go again."

Eddie looked affronted. "Who's _she_, darling? The cat's mother, hmm? This is _Patsy_, darling, she does have a name you know."

"I don't even think a scrawny cat in a dumpster would want to be taken in by her," Saffy said icily. "It'd die of chronic smoke inhalation after half a day."

"Ignore her Eddie, she's just jealous of my success," Patsy said in a lazy voice.

"What success?" Saffy said sharply. She unbuttoned her coat and hung it on a hook, never taking her eyes off Patsy.

"You tell her Eddie, I'm not going to waste any more breath on that little bitch skunk from hell," Patsy declared. She smiled smugly to herself and poured another glass of champagne.

"Tell me _what_?" Saffy said.

"Patsy's going global, darling," Eddie said. "Yeah, she's gonna be on a chat show, aren't you sweetheart? She's gonna be where the big bucks are!"

"You bet I am," said Patsy.

"What chat show's that, _Trisha_?" Saffy said scathingly. "Who have you got addicted to drugs this time?"

"That little boy from the estate is recovering very well in hospital, thank you very much, _Saffy darling_," Eddie said.

"I'm sure that's not the attitude his mother's taking," replied Saffy.

"I am going to be the presenter, anyway, not an interviewee," Patsy blurted out, looking insulted. She rose from the table, and suddenly the kitchen faded out into darkness, with just a single spotlight now shining down on her. "I'm going to be a global superstar, an icon of the age," she said, her voice magnified and slightly more eloquent than it normally was.

Patsy's fantasy took her to a crowded street, with photographers swarming around her and avid fans fighting to get her autograph. Patsy herself was wearing a long fur coat and dark shades. Every so often, she casually answered the question of a reporter.

"Where do you get your fur coats from, Miss Stone?" a reported asked.

"Oh darling, you don't want to see me in prison already, do you?" Patsy responded glamorously, posing for the camera.

A little homeless boy stepped forwards and held out a tin bowl. "Please?" he asked Patsy.

"Oh, oh right…sorry…" Patsy said a little less glitzily, and she flicked some ash from her cigarette into the bowl before sweeping away. "It's going to be _fabulous_," she said, now sitting in the kitchen again with Eddie and Saffy.


	2. The Producer's Office

It was a little over a week later. Patsy was on her way to the production studios. She had persuaded Eddie to accompany her; both were wearing their trademark shades and eccentric, characteristic outfits as they strutted down a street in London, laden with labeled shopping bags.

"Are we nearly there, darling?" Eddie muttered.

"It's just here I think," Patsy replied, looking up at a tall, brick building.

They walked down a long, whitewashed corridor and arrived at a lift; there were around fifty round buttons arranged on a keypad next to it. Patsy looked at the buttons with confusion, periodically tilting her head towards Eddie as she tried to make sense of them. "What do I do here, Eddie?" she asked clumsily.

"Just press a button darling, come on," Eddie replied.

"Yeah, but Eddie which one?" Patsy asked.

"Oh _darling_, just hit 'em all," Eddie said irksomely, striding forwards and brushing a hand against every button. After a pause, the lift chimed a bell and the doors opened. "There we go, Pats – _in we go_…"

After a few moments, they arrived on a floor that was completely deserted. In fact, it looked as though it were still being built, as there were bits of scaffolding framing the space and white sheets flailing in a breeze. The floor was made of concrete.

"Well this can't be it, Eddie," Patsy said. "Where are the luxury sofas? Where is my producer? Is she behind that sheet, darling?"

"No Pats," Eddie said at once, pulling her friend back towards the lift, "this is obviously the wrong floor, isn't it?"

After several more wrong stops, they finally reached the producer's office, and were greeted by a smiling receptionist wearing a pearl necklace. "Patsy Stone, here to see Sheila T-T-Trout," Patsy said. She had difficulty pronouncing the producer's surname.

"She's funny about food – _funny about food_," Eddie justified, nodding at the receptionist. She patted Patsy on the shoulder and smiled in a squirming sort of way.

"Sheila T-T-Trout was expecting you an hour ago," the receptionist said, raising an eyebrow. Her tone was very dry and sarcastic. "She's a very busy woman."

"And that is why this meeting is so important," Patsy said. "So if you could kindly tell her that I am here…!"

The receptionist hesitated, but then sighed and disappeared through a door. She returned almost straight away with a haughty-looking woman wearing a stern, black suit and thick, black glasses. Her hair was blonde and wavy, but tied up into a bun to keep it out of her eyes, and her skin was exceptionally pale. "Ah, Stone. What kept you? Step into my office," she said promptly, giving Eddie a dirty look. "I hope this isn't one of the people you're interviewing…"

"No, Sheila, absolutely not," Patsy said. She giggled childishly and followed Sheila Trout eagerly into her office. Eddie stomped after her, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath 'who does she think she is?'

"Sit down, Stone; Stone's friend can stand," Sheila said, settling down behind her stern desk and watching the pair closely.

"Very nice, isn't she darling? How dare she make me stand, sweetheart?" Eddie said hotly into Patsy's ear. However, upon seeing the look that Sheila was giving her, she swiftly stood up straight, as if out of fear of a severe teacher.

"I hope you've got names for me, Stone, I want names today," Sheila said, writing something down on a sheet of paper.

"Of course, of course," Patsy said maladroitly. Eddie gave her a swift, frightened glance, and muttered a few incoherent words under her breath again.

Sheila stared at her. "Well? I haven't got all day, let's hear them!"

"Well…well erm…see, the thing is Sheila…the thing is…_see,_ here's the thing…"

"I think she's established there's a thing, darling," Eddie said unhelpfully.

"Yes, _thank you Eddie_," Patsy said. "The thing, Sheila, is this…do…do you mind if I smoke in here, Sheila?"

"If it'll exhale the _thing_ out any faster," Sheila said dangerously.

"Oh for God's sake, Patsy doesn't have any celebrities for the talk show yet," Eddie blurted out, leaning forwards melodramatically and opening her arms wide. "Exhaled it for yah, Pats!"

"_What_?" Sheila said.

Patsy, who was midway through lighting a cigarette, froze in horror; her cigarette stuck out an odd angle from her mouth. Slowly, she pulled it out from between her lips and laid it gently on the desk, her expression innocent. "That_ might _be the thing," she said shortly, "but…but there again it might not."

"You've had two weeks, Stone," Sheila said, standing up. "I gave you plenty of time and plenty of money. And yet you have nobody for your talk show?"

"Nothing in life is certain, Sheila," Patsy reasoned.

"And certainly not your talk show. I've had it Stone, I'll have to cancel and find someone else –"

"NO!" Eddie and Patsy screamed together. Patsy glanced up at Eddie at this, whose face was red and flustered.

"Well I feel I'm partly responsible for this, darling," Eddie said apologetically in response to her stare.

Patsy looked back down again, and seemed to drift off for a second; Eddie's words echoed in the back of her head, over and over again: _I'm partly responsible for this darling, darling, darling…_

"Eddie doesn't know what she's saying," Patsy said as she returned to the room again. "I've got my A-listers all lined up, and they will be on my talk show next week. That's a…err…promise."

Sheila looked skeptical. "You're absolutely sure?"

"It'll be fabulous, darling," Patsy replied, getting up to leave.

"But Pats, you haven't –" Eddie started. Patsy merely shoved her unlit cigarette into her mouth and pulled her out of the room.


	3. Patisserie Valerie

Eddie and Patsy lunched at _Patisserie Valerie_, and decided to sit outside in the sunlight. Both were smoking and drinking coffee, though Patsy discreetly added vodka to her beverage before sipping it. Eddie looked troubled as she sat opposite, smoking profusely.

"I mean what is it darling, what are you up to?" she asked in a pained voice. "You haven't found anybody for your little chat show, have you?"

"No Eds, but the thing is –"

Patsy was interrupted by a short, bald man holding a clipboard and wearing a blue jacket. He approached the table shamelessly, but looked a little timid all the same, and stuck his pen out in Patsy's direction. "Edina Monsoon?" he asked.

"No, no that's…that's me…" Eddie said, grinning ghoulishly at the man and expanding her chest. "What is it? What've you got there?"

"Miss Monsoon said you'd be here," the man said, "so I've brought along some pamphlets and leaflets that I think might help you."

"_Pamphlets_? Pamphlets did he say, Pats?" Eddie said, looking perturbed. "Are you talking about Saffy, err…_person_?"

"That's right, Saffron Monsoon sent me here with these," the man said briskly, nodding his head. Eddie took the pamphlets and leaflets and stared down at them. They were designed, it seemed, to get people off cigarettes.

"What are they Eddie?" Patsy asked, allowing her cigarette to rest between her lips and taking one of the pamphlets for herself. Seeing its subject, she instantly dropped it onto the table and shrieked with disgust; she began to breathe heavily. "Get them away from me Eddie," she said huskily, clutching at her chest and smoking speedily. "That little _spawn of satin's_ trying to kill us early."

"We don't want them! We don't want these! Get them _away_!" Eddie complained, pushing them off the table and back into the man's arms. "How dare you frighten my friend like that?"

"I was told to –" the man started.

"You don't fancy being on my talk show, do you?" Patsy asked suddenly, pulling down her sunglasses to get a better look at the stranger. "You'd make a great sob story, wouldn't he Eddie?"

"Yes, but darling he's not _famous_," Eddie reiterated. She waved her hands around dramatically again. "You need famous people – _famous people_, darling –"

"Alright, piss off then," Patsy said to the man. She waved him away without a moment's hesitation, not recognising her rudeness.

The man shook his head. "No wonder your daughter's so tired-looking," he said, striding off down the street.

"Well she doesn't get it from her Mother!" Eddie screamed after him.


	4. Famous And Fabulous

Eddie and Patsy were taken back to the townhouse by Eddie's chauffeur. They got out, bags swinging about them, and struggled up the front steps. Once inside, they decided to have a drink in the living room to avoid conversing with Saffy and 'Gran,' whom they could hear talking downstairs in the kitchen.

"I need to ask you a favour, Eddie," Patsy said, accepting the drink that Eddie offered her.

"What is it? What're you up to, darling?" Eddie asked. She collapsed onto the sofa next to her.

"Eddie, I – I think I might need the bottle for this," Patsy admitted, curling her fingers agitatedly; she had glimpsed the bottle of vodka sitting on the mantelpiece.

"Alright then, darling," Eddie said at once, concerned. She got up and retrieved it. Patsy took a huge swig of it before continuing.

"Bloody hell," she said, gasping as she screwed the lid back on. "You're right, Eddie. There are no celebrities for my talk show next week. _Zilch_." She curled her forefinger and thumb into an O-shape, depression washing over her face.

"Well I sort of knew that, darling," Eddie said, lighting up a cigarette. "I'm listening sweetie, carry on."

"So, umm, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to be interviewed by me?" Patsy said.

Eddie froze, cigarette suspended in her mouth. "What? Me? What do you mean _me_, darling? I'm not famous, I'm not anything special, am I?"

"Well I know that," Patsy said brutally, "but I thought you could just – _pretend_."

"Pretend, darling? You want me to pretend to be famous?"

"Why not?" Patsy said, sniffing loudly. "You're all I've got Eddie."

"Think you drew the short straw there, Pats," Eddie said. She laughed nervously and lit her cigarette properly.

"So will you do it?" she pressed.

Eddie looked hesitant. "I'm not sure it would be for me, darling. I mean, what would I talk about, hmm? My whole life is a complete failure, darling. People won't even know who I am, they won't _care_ about my woes sweetie, I'll be laughed outta there –"

"Come on Eds, we can make up a glamorous story for you, the celebrity the world forgot! Something like that?"

"Well cheers for _that_, darling," Eddie said.

Saffy entered the room, followed closely by Gran.

"Afternoon _Mum_," Saffy said. "The man from the clinic phoned me and told me how rude you were to him."

"Ugh, _told-me-how-rude-you-were-to-him_," Eddie said, mimicking her daughter's voice. "He was the rude one, darling. Frightened poor Pats, didn't he?"

"I've got him marked," Patsy said, leaning back against the sofa and pointing vaguely at nothing. She took another swig of vodka.

"He was only trying to be helpful, you didn't have to be so insolent," Saffy snapped.

"_Insolent, _darling? _Insolent_? You're the insolent one for nosing into people's lives! We just wanna live, sweetie! We can't be in shackles the whole time, can we?" Eddie beseeched.

Gran ambled further into the sitting room. "Hello Patsy, dear," she said happily.

"Oh…yeah…hi Mrs. M," Patsy said vaguely, now smoking. "I need an answer, Eddie!"

"An answer about what, dear?" Gran asked, interested. "I think it's very dangerous leaving the answering to Edina, you know. She's not of sound mind."

"Like you can comment on sound mind, old woman," Eddie said. "Could someone please get her outta here? _God_."

"_Eddie_!" Patsy said again.

"Answer what, Mum?" Saffy asked.

"Ugh, just this thing Patsy wants me to do for her talk show, sweetie," Eddie said.

"What thing? Don't do anything embarrassing," Saffy barked. She looked incredibly serious.

"The only embarrassing thing she'd have to say is admitting she had _you_," Patsy said from the sofa. Saffy scowled at her.

"Well, I – I suppose, darling. But I'm not happy, darling, not happy…" Eddie said. "Why don't you just use Saffy instead, offer her up as a sacrifice…" she muttered as an afterthought.

"A sacrifice, dear? It all sounds very barbaric," Gran said.

"Mum, what have you gotten yourself into?" Saffy asked. "You're not going on Patsy's talk show, are you?"

"Of course not, sweetheart, course not," Eddie said quietly, getting up and patting Saffy on the arm.

"Oh Eddie, one more thing," Patsy said. "It pains me to say it, but I'm going to have to pluck a few more interviewees out of the dark for this blasted talk show; you know, so it goes on for long enough. I was thinking about the little troll child, possibly Mrs. M, and that idiotic assistant of yours?"

"_What_?" Saffy cried.

"I agree with Saffy, darling," Eddie said, "coulda picked a better selection!"

Patsy got up and shook her head. "There _is _no other selection, Eddie, so I'm afraid they'll have to do. I'm already retching over the idea of sitting so close to Saffy."

"There'll be a table in between you, sweetie, it'll be fine," Eddie soothed, frowning.

"And they've all got to pretend to be famous and fabulous," Patsy finished, glugging down the vodka now. "So I suggest you wipe their memories or something and give them fabulous new ones; hypnotherapy, Eddie?"

"Not sure I can do that, sweetie," Eddie said through gritted teeth, staring around at them all.

"I don't want to do this," Saffy said staunchly, folding her arms. She looked on the verge of tears.

"I'm not sure I've got a mind to wipe, dear," Gran said.


End file.
